Ah, the lazy days of summer. Typically, I’d assign that moniker to the days of August. Days when the heat is no longer a surprise, and high humidity is expected more than it is lamented. I usually don’t feel that my summer has fully evolved into the lazy stage until those days, but after this weekend, my lazy days of summer have officially arrived. It’s not that today is the first official lazy day of summer, it’s just that after the past couple weeks of remarkable weather- warm temperatures, warm water, and little rain- I’m already fully entrenched in my late summer pattern.
I have had extended family in town, sporadically, for the past two weeks. My love of cooking has dictated that I prepare many of the meals, including tacos for 22 on Friday night, and paella for 26 on Saturday. Don’t think for a second that my tacos featured anything by Ortega. In fact, don’t think that anything came from a jar at all. And please don’t make the mistake my cousin made when he asked me for lettuce to put on his taco. Where was I going with this? Right. I was grilling on Sunday afternoon at my parents lakefront house, and a benefit of my parents living on the lake in the Loch Vista Club is that I get to see many of my clients on the weekends. I particularly love seeing customers that I sold vacation homes to in the club, as they swim and sun and lounge their way through summer, thoroughly enjoying the life that I promised they’d find here. One client walked by and we exchanged a few pleasantries. I asked how his summer was going and he answered simply, but pointedly “it’s going too fast”. With that, he walked to the pier, and with that, I realized something terrifying. It will be the first of August in 19 days.
19 days isn’t a lot of time. By the time August rolls around, the lazy days of summer have finally arrived for most people, which should be a blessing. The problem is that August has a serious side. August makes me send my kids back to school. August is a countdown to worse times that lie ahead. Like a week long January vacation to somewhere warm, there’s a perpetual countdown to the day that the fun ends. July? There’s not much to worry about with July. July is the only true full month of summer, when school ends in June, and school begins (for some) in August, there is always July. Nothing to do in July but celebrate summer, and I’ve done more than my fair share of summer loving over the first 12 days of this terrific month. I guess I should be happy that there are 19 days of July left, but I find myself battling something that I wrote about in one of my previous stories about summer- a scant desire for fall.
The Cubs mean summer to me. Sundays spent at my parents lakefront house usually involve a brief respite indoors to watch a little baseball. In case you haven’t been paying attention, which would be a good thing in this unfortunate case, the Cubs are bad. I was going to say “like Pirates bad”, until I realized that the Pirates own us this year. They’re just a bad baseball team, which has taken some of my traditional summer interests out of play. Instead of thinking about ivy and pinstripes, I find myself daydreaming about the Bears. I think about Julius Peppers tearing other teams quarterbacks limb from limb, and I like it. My daydreams usually make me a bit unsettled though, as I list the Bears receiving corps in my head, and realize Angelo decided against adding a play-making wide receiver. I also think about crisp Saturday afternoons, when Big Ten football floods my television, and I think about how the Badgers will probably start 5-0 like they usually do and then end up playing in the Carson City Electronics and Farm Supply Bowl when they finish with 4 losses.
I think these things about fall, just like I predicted I would way before summer arrived, and way before the lazy days of summer ever settled in. For now, I’m going to fight thoughts of football and such things. I’m going to go back out, and embrace the summer that I love so terribly much. I’m going to rejoice in the fact that this Lake Geneva summer is so much better than the last Lake Geneva summer. I’m going to love the water and love the sun and not for one second think about September. I’m going to let these lazy hazy days of summer come early, and I’m going to let them envelope me until they absolutely must be replaced by crisp sunshine, crackling leaves, and weekend football. At least this fall there won’t be a Cubs playoff massacre to witness. See you at the lake.